


Why Peter Parker Can’t Have Girl Scout Cookies

by Starkerhowlter (Sinninghowlter)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Light Language, M/M, Minor Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, girl scout cookies, mentioned Stucky, mentioned binge eating of cookies, non-descriptive vomiting, short and sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25837294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinninghowlter/pseuds/Starkerhowlter
Summary: Clint and Natasha's daughter is a girl scout, Peter is a sucker for Trefoils cookies.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	Why Peter Parker Can’t Have Girl Scout Cookies

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Alright, So it’s been a while since I’ve uploaded a fic, but last night a close friend of mine [ (Katsotherworld) ](https://katsotherworld.tumblr.com/) suggested this prompt for me to try. Here’s the result... a humourous, fluffy, little mess of a fic.... Enjoy! 
> 
> Shout out to my Beta: [ Ocotopushugs!](https://ocotopushugs.tumblr.com/) Be sure to go give her lots of love and thanks for her help and for always rooting for these fics to get done. 
> 
> Translation: маленький кадет means Little cadet

Tony knows something's up when he enters the building. The security counter has boxes of cookies on it, and there's a sweet smell in the air. He sighs, asking J.A.R.V.I.S. what today's date is. "January third, Mister Stark." 

"shit, it's cookie season. Wait, CLINT!" he shouts, rushing into the elevator, pressing the button to the main floor over and over. "Hey," he shouts, running into the kitchen, and finds Clint helping his daughter with her pink order sheets. The two are inking over each letter, making sure everything copies to the carbon paper underneath. 

"Hi, Tony!" Clint nods, looking up from the page, "J.A.R.V.I.S. said you were looking for me?" 

"Yeah, how many boxes of cookies did Peter buy from you?" He braces himself for the answer, knowing it'll be what decides if he sleeps in the lab or dares to go into the apartment of a sugar-high adult.

"How many does he want you to know about?" Clint chuckles, smiling at the girl's sheet. 

"C'mon, it can't be that bad." He sighs, "Can it?"

"He already bought 20 boxes, mister Stark!" Nicole smiles at the inventor. 

"Twenty boxes, yeah, that's not bad. Wait, WHAT?" Tony shouts, causing Natasha to rush in.

"What's wrong?" she asks, beelining towards her daughter. She'd always been protective over her, being especially careful to not allow anything to happen to her. The other Avengers presume it's a subconscious hope for her to have a semi-normal life. She's had sleepovers, playdates, and birthday parties, but there's always a keenness to make sure she blends in at school and in life. "How're my маленький кадет* sales coming along?" She asks, playing with the girl's hair. 

"Quite well, seeing that Peter bought twenty boxes without my knowing," He chuckles. 

"It also doesn't hurt to add in that Steve bought quite a few boxes too. He said that he was taking them home to Bucky. According to him, they haven't had Tagalongs or Thin Mints since the '40s." 

"Peter hates Thin Mints," Tony notes, absentmindedly, "It has to do with the spider genes. Any intense tastes or smells are terrible to him. I found that out the hard way." 

"Didn't you learn that with the candy cane incident two Christmases ago?" Clint asks, hearing Tony's comment.

"Yes," Tony sighs. "I learned to never feed him peppermint bark without telling him. I've never heard him scream like that! You'd think it burned him! Which type of cookie did he get?" He runs through the list in his head, ruling out anything nutty, citrusy or minty. 

"Peter bought all of my shortbreads," She smiles, batting her mom's hands away from her curly red hair.

"Of course he did." Tony smiles, "Thank you, Nicole. If you want to catch me later, I'll probably buy a few boxes of lemonades or Tagalongs for the lab. Pepper will probably buy some of your S'mores if she hasn't already. Now, I've got to go find out how much damage my boyfriend's done."

The billionaire knows what to expect as he approaches the apartment door. Inside, lays Peter on the couch, two empty cookie boxes rest on the table, "Hi, sweetheart, how are you feeling?" 

"I'm nauseous and shaky, but overall good." 

"Well, I hate to break it to you," Tony begins as he's approaching the couch, "but when you eat seven people's worth of shortbread cookies, you're going to beat your metabolism. You're going to be bloated and nauseated just like everyone else. At least, until your metabolism catches up in a few hours. Well, if you don't throw up before then." 

He nods and lays his head on the man's shoulder. "I didn't ask to be normal, Tony." 

"I know, but sometimes your diet says otherwise," If you eat recklessly you're going to start feeling like the rest of us. Would you like me to make you a glass of water?" Peter nods, prompting the man to rise, "Oh, can you bring the other eighteen boxes of those into the kitchen?"

"Sure... Y'know, you'd think I'd learn to not binge those like tha--" He begins collecting the boxes but pauses at the island after two trips. His fingers grip the edge, knuckles turning white against the grey quartz counter. He sets his jaw, still shaking. 

"You alright there?" The inventor asks, concern painting his face, "You've gone kinda whi--" Before he can finish his sentence, Peter's bolting down the hallway into the guest bathroom. Tony chuckles lightly, cringing at each heave echoing from down the hall, "Are you done?"

"Y-Yeah..." Comes the weak reply. 

"Alright, do you need a rag?"

"Yes, please." 

The older collects a damp bar rag as well as the bottle of water, "Alright, here you go." He sits on the floor behind his boyfriend, handing him the washcloth, "Is that better?" he asks, pressing the side of the water bottle to the back of the boy's neck, kissing behind his ear, "Y'know, since it's all out now?"

"Um... I feel slightly better but not great." 

"Well, that's a start, hm?" He takes the lid off the bottle, "Here, take little sips." He stands, rinsing the washcloth out in the sink before sitting back down.

"Can we stay here for a minute?" Peter asks softly, leaning back against the inventor's hand running up and down his back. 

"Sure. Do you think you're going to throw up again?"

"M-maybe, I mean... I don't feel like it right now, but I might in a bit."

"Why don't we move to the couch, then? You know, just to get you outta here?" He suggests, standing and offering a hand to his lover, "We can go watch a movie in the bedroom?"

"That sounds nice, I wanna lay down," Peter smiles a little, following the older out and to the bedroom. 

"Sounds like a plan. I'm going to get something to drink, and I'll meet you there." 

"All right..."

The man waits until Peter's disappeared around the corner before eating a few of the cookies for himself. 

"TONY, ARE YOU EATING MY COOKIES?!" Peter's voice calls from down the hall.

"Nope! I'm coming," he calls back, chewing the last of the sweet, pouring a glass of wine for himself and Peter.

**Author's Note:**

> Lemme know what you thought! I'd really appreciate it if you left a comment or kudos! ❤❤❤


End file.
